


Coffee Pot.

by phlossie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Complete, Fluff, Hales are alive, M/M, Oneshot, coarse language, partial nuduty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 12:36:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3729175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phlossie/pseuds/phlossie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is never ever covering one of Scots shifts when Greenburg is on ever again. (He so is)</p><p>And now he’s stuck in the coin laundry, one dollar short of a dry cycle, in winter, and there's a devastatingly handsome man reading spanish poetry in the corner and its just stiles luck that the guy probably murders kittens in his spare time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee Pot.

**Author's Note:**

> So, the blurb is maybe a little bit not at all like the actual fic, or at least it plays up things that are not played up in the fic... keep in mind that this is unbetad, IM SO SORRYY!!! But Still, Y'all get fluff so shut up. :D

Covered, literally covered in wet coffee grounds. How had this happened to Stiles?  
  
_Greenburg._  
  
And all Leon Felipe could do was frown at the puddle of watery coffee grit Stiles had left on the floor.  
  
_Why, why! Couldnt he have just given that busker his nickels?_  
  
In the vague - desperate - hope that there was a quarter hidden somewhere in his wallet, he emptied it on the top of the dryer. _Why didnt he check how much money he had when he stripped to put his clothes in the washer? WHY!???_  
  
Leon shifted on his stool, a page flicked. Stiles looked at him, not for the first time weighing up the pros and cons of asking if he could change a dollar bill. He cleared his throat and another page flicked in response. _Seriously, way to make it obvious._  
  
“Uhhmm” He fidgeted. “S’cuse me.” A bushy, caterpillar of an eyebrow rose over the top of the book.  
  
“Yes” It was gruff, deep... _oh shit no._ Siltes was fucked, sadly not literally.  
  
“could I- do you have any Quarters? I’ll change it for you.” Stiles opened his ratty old wallet to prove it. _Ugh, why did I do that?_ The other eyebrow rose and then a set of unbelievable green eyes appeared, there were several moments of silence in which the eyebrows rose further. Stiles realised he was gaping. “Ehm, yeah.” he shuffled, retracting his wallet and grimacing. “I’m just gonna-” he shuffled away. _Oh god, I am doomed, the prettiest person in NYC and I just completely buggered any chances of bedding them._  
  
There was a shuffle in the corner, the book disappeared and Stiles looked up to see a ridiculously sculpted jawline, designer stubble and the cutest fucking teeth he had ever had the pleasure of ogling. _Holy god, sooo fucked._  
  
“Here” Stiles was so distracted by the ‘pretty’ that he almost missed the handful of coins.  
  
“Oh! thanks.” He smiled and received a funny lip quirk in return, he’d take what he could get. The guy had the whole smoldering, glower-y, Men’s health magazine thing going on, Stiles could totally work with that. He took two quarters and five dimes, handing the rest back with a dollar bill from his ratty wallet. When he turned to the dryer the sex god had his nose buried in the pages of the novella again. Stiles didnt know whether to be happy or sad, happy that he could ogle with impunity, or sad that the wonderful cheekbones were hidden from sight.  
  
Ten minutes later.  
  
“Oh no, nononononono. Stop!! Please... please dont do this to me.” Stiles rattled the front of the dryer, it was smoking slightly and there were ominous rattling noises coming from the back. He smacked the lid. “Dammit”. There was a muffled choking noise from the book. Stiles whirled around, The cover wasnt big enough to hide the bright blush spreading across the forehead and ears of Mr Felipe, whose shoulders were shaking with barely withheld mirth. Stiles gave up, seriously, a cultured model was laughing at him in a coin laundry because the dryer literally frigging incinerated his clothes! Oh and did he mention, he was currently wearing batman boxers and _nothing else_.  
  
G _ood thing it’s warm in here_. He stared, dejectedly at the smoking dryer.  
  
“Hey, um” the chuckling subsided and a hand landed on his shoulder. “I have some spare clothes if you’d like.” A balled up (dry) henley and a pair of sweatpants were pressed into his chest. Stiles clutched at them blinking away his surprise.  
  
“Thanks.. I- Thanks” He smiled at the guy, who smiled tentatively back.  
  
“I think theres a number you can call about the dryer” The guy was holding his own phone, but Stiles groped for his, eyes widening, as he very quickly realized it was definitely not on his person, nor on the bench top where he’d left his beanie and shoes. He looked, in utter horror at the smoldering dryer. Ridiculous-spanish-poetry-model looked like he was about to start laughing again.  
  
“Oh no...” Stiles felt like he’d just been kicked. _Did he kill someones grandmother in a previous life or something?_  
  
“You can use mine”  
  
Stiles wondered how completely pathetic he looked to have elicited an act of generosity from attack eyebrows.  
  
“r-Really?” He nodded and held it up. Stiles tentatively took the phone. “Oh its- um..”  
  
“Right sure” He took the phone and punched in the code, before handing it over again. They stood staring at each other for a beat before Stiles managed to get his rapidly derailing train of thought back on track.  
  
The phone had ‘property of D.Hale’ on the back and an email address. Stiles’ fingers unconsciously ran over the engraving as he copied down he number for the laundry manager and pressed call, waiting as the line rung and then leaving a completely impromptu and embarrassingly confused voicemail. He did remember to give Scott’s number instead of his own, considering it payment for the shit of a day taking his friend’s shift had resulted in.  
  
He handed the cellphone back. “Thanks man, t’s really great of you to let me use it. I, um, left them my roommates number so, you know, you dont need ta...” _just stop talking_ “worry. Yeah, thanks for the phone” _You’re making it worse_ ” and the quarters...” _STOOOOP_ “and the clothes” _kill yourself._  
  
“It’s fine” The bunny teeth came out in full force when he smiled, Stiles was a goners on the strength of that alone, the man’s cheeks pinked up a little again too. _We have a blusher_. Stiles resolutely did not think about other places the blush would show if he was naked, awkward boners were even harder to hide when you werent wearing any clothes. _Speaking of which_. He shimmied his way into the sweat pants, which hung loose on his hips, and the Henley, which was only tight across his shoulders. When he looked back up Leon wasnt just flushed, but almost tomato colored.  
  
“Ehm, well, I should probably go... seeing as I destroyed the dryer... and, ummm, My roommate expected me home ages ago sooo. Thanks, again.” Stiles looked down at the clothes. “Oh wait, how will I get these back to you, ah...?” He didnt know the guys name, and he was wearing his clothes. _Goddamit brain, so not a good time._  
  
“Derek, my names Derek” Derek shook Stiles hand and his brain shorted out for a full five seconds as he registered the rough, warmness of the guys skin and the firmness of his grip. _Soooo fucked._  
  
“uhnng, St-Stiles” He cleared his throat “Stilinski... Its a nickname, my real name sucks.” _Just shut uuupppp._  
  
Derek, smirked. “Do you have an email?”  
  
“Wha?”  
  
“So you can contact me.”  
  
“Oh, sure stillsstilinski@gmail.com” he had to spell it out for him, but eventually Derek had Stiles as an email contact in his phone.  
  
“Well, I guess I’ll see you... soon.” _You are so lame, you’ll be lucky if he even contacts you to get his clothes back_. Sitles started out the door.  
  
“Wait!” He stopped and turned around way too fast because he stumbled, but it was fine, because Derek was looking mildly panicked and like he really didnt want Stiles to leave just yet.  
  
“Yeh?”  
  
“Did you, maybe-” Derek paused, Closing his eyes the way people do when they’re trying to slow down their brain so their mouth can catch up. “would you like to get coffee?”  
  
“YES!” _Be cool_. “I mean, yeah, coffee would be great.” Relief flooded Derek’s expression, or well, the attack eyebrows backed off a little. Stiles assumed that meant he was at least pleased with Stiles' response. He grabbed his wallet, shoving it in a pocket, and pulled on the beanie, hurriedly tying his shoelaces. Derek had picked up his satchel and was standing by the door waiting for him. Stiles smiled goofily when he held the door to let them both out. “Such a gentleman” He immediately blushed at the insinuations and tried to play it off as ‘normal’. Derek just laughed, thank god, and offered his elbow. Stiles nearly fainted, but he was not about to turn down the offer of bodily contact, even if it was a joke, and latched on to the crook of Derek’s arm before he could back out.  
  
They went to Gimme Coffee, because Stiles was discerning, and it was closer than Starbucks. He spent the walk there extolling the virtues of New York weather, mostly because it wasn't raining at the present moment, there were so many reasons he hated tween seasons; the first was the unpredictability, this morning he had woken up to sunshine, but by the time of ‘The Great Coffee Incident’ it had been bucketing. Now, less than an hour later, the skies were inclement, but dry. The coffee house was buzzing, apparently the rain had not yet let up for long enough that people deemed it safe to return to the streets, So almost every table was crammed with noisy New Yorkers. Derek found them a booth at the back, and Stiles went and ordered their drinks. Derek had just said “Coffee” like that explained everything, Stiles decided it meant “I’ll have what you have” and ordered them both black coffee with cream, he felt like indulging, and (hoping it wasnt too forward) a cinnamon bun to share. When he returned to the table Derek had his satchel on the floor and was just tucking away the Poetry book from earlier  
  
“So you can read Spanish?” He motioned at the novel.  
  
“Oh, yeah” Derek blushed again. “its... My Major...” Stiles may have gaped a little.  
  
“You’re majoring in Spanish Poetry?”  
  
“No, no... I’m majoring in Poetry, I have a particular interest in Spanish... Literature in general.”  
  
“Oh cool, How far along are you?” Derek’s eyebrows did this hilarious little dance.  
  
“I have about four months to go...”  
  
“Oh dude thats awesome! I’m in my second year, and I Still don't know if I’m doing what I really want to do, you know? I mean, I’m studying IT, but I could just as easily have gone with History or economics. It was ridiculously hard for my RA to help me get down to four options. Let alone actually choose one. I ended up just picking one at random out of a hat! I mean, way to make important life choices right? but it was just so hard to make up my mind.” Stiles knew he was babbling, but he couldn't seem to help it, Derek didn't appear to mind, He just nodded along as talking about his major, and choosing it, lead Stiles on to Lydia, his RA, who he’d also know in High School and then High School got him on to Scott, which lead to lacrosse and Video Games, which magically segued into talking about his father. At which point Stiles realized he had spent the last thirty minutes rambling on about himself, turned a shade of pink to rival Derek and promptly asked Derek about his own family.  
  
There was an extended pause. “I, um, am staying with my sister, Laura, while I finish my degree... I have another sister, but she’s going to UC. My parents still live at our family home back in Beacon Hills...  There’s not much to tell.” Stiles realized that not once, in his half hour tirade, had he mentioned where he grew up, not by name.  
  
“Oh My Gosh, We grew up in the same town!” 

  
“What? Wait, you’re Stiles Stillinski? The Sheriffs kid?”  
  
“Yeah! I cant believe neither of us realized till now, I mean, there cant be very many Stillinskis, and I used to go to school with Cora and Malia! Dude! This is great!” A waitress smacked coffees (Stiles had paused to re-order) down in front of them, effectively derailing what could have quickly become another rant. She glared at Stiles and then shot Derek a beatific smile. Derek made an apologetic noise when she left.  
  
“Ahhmmm, should I check the coffee for poisons?”  
  
“Ha, I dont think so.”  
  
“What was that all about?” Derek blushed down to the roots of his hair. Stiles found it unbelievably adorable.  
  
“I’m a bit of a regular in here, I think she has, misconceptions as to why.” Stiles widened his eyes.  
  
“Oh really...”  
  
“It’s not, I wouldn't... I’m gay.” Derek was studiously inspecting the scattering of crumbs on the table.  
  
“Well, thats good, me too.” He looked up.  
  
“Stiles, I-”  
  
“Tell me if I’m reading this wrong.” He leant in until he was mere inches from Derek’s face, he could feel the soft puffs of air across his cheeks and paused, giving Derek time to respond to his advance. Derek slid a hand up to cup the side of Stiles face and smiled softly.  
  
“Your aren’t”

 

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed, 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr - ticklethetree - and as always, please leave comments or kudos, even just go check out my other works!


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